


You Are Stuck With Me

by quietly_desperate



Category: Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anne Shirley in Denial, Cigarettes, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Late Night Conversations, Not Canon Compliant, Protective Gilbert Blythe, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:53:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26564674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietly_desperate/pseuds/quietly_desperate
Summary: ”I’m fucked up, Gilbert. That’s why people keep leaving me. My parents left me, Matthew left me, and now Diana’s left me. Fuck, you even left me.”***It’s been six years since Anne and Gilbert went their seperate ways to pursue their college dreams. Fast forward to present day, and everything’s changed, and yet, nothing’s changed at all.Gilbert just wants to make sure Anne’s okay.
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley
Comments: 1
Kudos: 56





	You Are Stuck With Me

**Author's Note:**

> I haven’t even finished my other WIP but a lot has happened and it’s midnight and I need a distraction. As per usual, this is unedited and all that, and idek if it makes sense, but here you go. Here’s another piece of me that I’m giving away because it’s better than harbouring it inside. Have fun, enjoy x
> 
> **based on ‘Stuck with Me’ by The Neighbourhood**

He finds her smoking a cigarette by the cliff, back firmly pressed against her car. There’s no doubt in his mind that she’s berating herself, finding even the smallest of things to blame on herself. That’s simply what Anne does. She’d sacrifice herself before anyone else.

Gilbert watches her for a while. He wonders when she picked up smoking. That’s such an un-Anne-like quality. Admittedly, she looks hot doing it, but that’s not the point. Plus, Gilbert’s a _doctor._ Isn’t his job to deter people from smoking?

”I know you’re behind me. You might as well come out.”

”Are you sure it’s safe?” Gilbert says, tone light in a joking matter. He steps out from behind the tree he was hiding behind and makes his way to where Anne is stubbing out her cigarette.

She doesn’t look at him, just gives him a one-shouldered shrug. “Depends. Are you going to say anything stupid?”

”Isn’t that my job?”

”Yeah. I forgot about that.”

They both grin. Six years apart, a few texts and a handful of calls to maintain the friendship, and they can still banter back and forth like no time has passed.

That’s what Gilbert’s always loved about Anne - put her in any situation and she’ll adapt like a chameleon blending into its surroundings. She’s reliable, at least in that sense, and he’s never had an issue of being afraid in uncertain situations because of it. There again, maybe that was why she’s smoking a pack of cigarettes by the cliff at two a.m. Maybe Gilbert has relied on her too much to make himself feel comfortable. He always had a bad habit of subtly relying too much on others to get him through things he couldn’t bear to do alone.

She opens up the pack and shakes another cigarette out. Gilbert watches, stuck in a trance-like state, and almost misses when she directs the packet towards him. He looks up at her when she shakes it to grab his attention.

”Did you forget I’m a doctor?” He says, but he’s grinning.

”Doctor in _training_ , if I remember correctly.” Thankfully, Anne closes the packet and slips it into her back pocket. She flicks her lighter and inhales as the flame lights the cigarette. She exhales the smoke and says, “Speaking of which; shouldn’t you be continuing your training? In Toronto?”

It’s only been five minutes. Gilbert’s not ready to breach this topic yet. He rubs the back of his neck with his hand, trying to bide his time. Anything to avoid the inevitable. He wonders if he asks Anne about what it’s like to be back at Green Gables, she’ll forget her original question -

Except, that’s exactly what Gilbert’s trying not to do. He can’t keep relying on Anne to take away his feelings of being uncomfortable. It’s not fair on him, or her.

He sighs. Looks like he’s facing his demons tonight.

”When I found out what happened, I put a pause on my studies. To be here.” Gilbert holds his breath, then says on the exhale: “For you.”

Anne freezes beside him. Her cigarette hangs loosely from between her forefinger and middle finger, the tip a bright orange colour that barely casts any light further than the bottom of Anne’s finger. Gilbert trains his eyes on the soft glow of the light.

He expects anger. Anne’s got a fiery temper, after all. He expects an outburst and fireworks and for the world to fall apart around them as she wrecks havoc and lays waste to their surroundings. Its easy to expect this, to prepare for this, because this is how it’s always been. But not anymore. Gilbert knows that much, at least. It’s been six years since Gilbert fucked off to Toronto after the disaster with Winnie, six years since he left his heart in Anne’s unsuspecting care, never telling her so as to not break his heart further. A lot changes in six years. Feelings grow, people change, and in Anne’s case, she becomes smaller in personality.

So she doesn’t lash out. She doesn’t even look at Gilbert, just unhinges her frozen wrist and takes a deep inhalation of her rapidly decreasing cigarette.

”I’m fucked up, Gilbert. That’s why people keep leaving me. My parents left me, Matthew left me, and now Diana’s left me. Fuck, you even left me.”

She looks at him, eyes shiny but emotionless. Gilbert feels scared. Even her tone of voice is placid, unfeeling. This isn’t the Anne he left all those years ago. He barely recognises her.

She looks back out over the cliff. The waves are crashing below them, the wind is blowing gently across their faces, and in another lifetime, Gilbert would have reached around and kissed Anne right here and now. Instead, he leans against the bonnet of her car and waits. For what, he’s unsure.

”You’d think after all these years, I’d be used to people leaving,” Anne says. She lets out a bitter laugh, shakes her head. “I’m not. It never gets easier. I always think I do enough, make big proclamations of my love for people so if and when they do leave, they go with the knowledge that I adored them, that I would have died for them if given the opportunity. And yet here we are: Diana’s gone, and she left on the sourest note we’ve ever spat to each other.”

The weight that was once holding her up seems to deep out of her. She slumps against the car, the bud of her cigarette falling to the ground. Gilbert doesn’t even flinch. It was mostly out anyway. Instead, he focuses his attention on Anne, on how lax her body is, as if too heavy to hold up.

He doesn’t know what happened between Anne and Diana. He doesn’t know about the sour not they spat at each other before Diana left, or where Diana’s gone. All he knows is Marilla called him up in the middle of the night a few days previous, begging that he come back to Avonlea because she feared Anne was going to die. Gilbert had questioned to himself as to why Marilla had called him instead of a local, certified doctor at first, but now he understood. Anne wasn’t dying of a physical illness that could be treated with medication or hospitalisation. It was her broken heart that was slicing her up, inside out.

There’s no textbook or lecture on how to cure a broken heart. Gilbert could travel the world, see wonders most people won’t ever see even in a newspaper, and he still wouldn’t have the answer on the correct way to help Anne. He’s been searching for years to find his own cure of the deadly broke heat, and so far, he’s only found tiny shards of glass that he hold onto dearly, as if that will bring back those he’s lost. But all situations are different. What works for Gilbert may not work for Anne. It may not bring her any comfort at all.

He wishes more than ever that they were eighteen and sixteen again, figuring out their lives as they finished up school and looked forward to college. He wishes he had that easiness around Anne that he once possesses and showed off proudly. He wishes he knew the answer.

Instead, he wraps an arm around Anne’s shoulders and pulls her in close. She goes without complaint, resting her head against Gilbert’s shoulder without thinking twice. Again, this is familiar. This is Anne making things familiar. Maybe Gilbert is beating himself up for no reason; maybe Anne likes making him feel comfortable.

”Do you think it will ever get easier?” She whispers out into the dark silence of the night.

Gilbert squeezes her shoulder. “I don’t think the situations become easier, I think we become better at handling them.”

Anne laughs out a broken sound that tears at Gilbert. He watches her become smaller right in front of her eyes, another part of her disappearing just like the breath that leaves their mouths as they speak.

”Figures. We’re the ones who have to put in all the effort. God really must hate us.”

She leaves Gilbert standing alone, empty and hating himself as she hops into her car and drives away.

***

They return back to the cliff each night at two a.m. like clockwork, an unspoken agreement between them. It goes on for days. Anne will arrive first and be sucking down a cigarette by the time Gilbert arrives. He still finds it hot, but for a different reason. Hot probably isn’t the right word; it’s more comforting than anything, but that doesn’t sound right in his head, so he leaves it be. It’s just Anne smoking a cigarette. Whatever.

Each night follows the same sort of routine: silence; a joke prompted by Gilbert; self-deprecating comment from Anne; semi-serious, metaphor-filled conversation; genuine question asked by Anne; depression but realistic response from Gilbert; a sad realisation from Anne and a sudden departure.

Gilbert finds himself eating his own words, hating himself for them. Every night, when Anne gets up and leaves unexpectedly, it makes sense, but it still hurts just like the first time. He finds himself frozen in the position he was stood in before Anne left for at least a half hour after she’s gone. It doesn’t get easier after each night, and he sure hasn’t found new ways to deal with the hurt in his heart.

When he arrives tonight, something feels different. For one, Anne’s car is nowhere in sight, whereas Gilbert drove himself to the cliff for the first time. Instead of standing a few metres away from the cliffs edge, Anne has planted her arse right on the edge. Gilbert can see her cigarette smoke rise up from in front of her, see her legs kicking back and forth against the rocky surface against her calves. Panic rises in his chest but he tamps it down.

”Feeling adventurous tonight, huh?” He says as he takes a seat beside her.

”Got tired of standing,” Anne says. “Plus, your shoulder is in a better position when we’re sitting down. Do you mind?”

”Go ahead.”

That too is different. Anne never asks for permission to rest her head on his shoulder (it’s more a mural agreement), and she certainly doesn’t initiate it ten seconds into meeting up. Not that Gilbert’s complaining. He’s just confused. And worried.

”Managed to get hold of Diana?” He asks.

Anne shakes her head as best as she can from where its positioned on Gilbert’s shoulder. “Nothing. Minnie-May told me Diana’s been expecting me to call, yet she doesn’t respond when I do call her. I’ve given up for now.”

Gilbert still doesn’t know what’s happened, and he doesn’t ask, but the more Anne talks about it, the more he can piece together. He makes a few assumptions, connects dots that probably have no correlation, but he still doesn’t ask. He’s nothing but a soundboard to Anne, and he doesn’t mind.

They lapse into silence. Anne finishes her cigarette but doesn’t light another. That’s new as well. She has almost always chain-smoked throughly at least eight most nights. Now she’s only stopping at one? Something in Gilbert’s brain clicks, and he fears a darkness that he’s never once entertained before.

”Anne,” he begins, gentle as he can. “Are you....thinking about, you know? Not being here anymore?”

”Considering you’re a doctor, you’re terrible at asking someone if they’re suicidal,” she snorts. He jabs her in the side. “No, I’m fine. I’m just tired. And I’ve realised that you’re probably going to leave soon, so I’m making the most of our time together.”

”Who days I’m going away?”

Anne lifts her head off his shoulder and stares him down like doing so is her lifeline. Gilbert’s never looked into Anne’s eyes for so long without romantic undertones behind it, so this feels rather unnatural. He feels his skin prickle, an uncomfortable feeling washing over him.

Tonight really is a night of changes. Instead of comforting him, Anne is making him feel uncomfortable. Wonders never cease to exist.

”Of course you’re going away,” Anne says, as if it’s common knowledge. “I said it the first night: I’m fucked up, Gilbert. Everyone leaves eventually. What makes you any different?”

”Maybe I’m tired of being categorised with everyone else. Maybe I’m tired of people leaving me, so I’ve decided not to leave anyone else if I can help it.”

”You know that’s impossible.” Anne gestures to their surroundings - Gilbert’s car, the cliff, the ocean below them, the moon. “Your life is in Toronto now. You’re thriving. I’m barely surviving.”

Gilbert laughs. It’s sad and broken and he shakes his head to try and shake away the tears forming in his eyes. Anne Shirley Cuthbert, Fire-Haired Dreamer and the Bride of Adventure; Anne, his best friend, is putting herself down like it’s not just second nature, but first nature. He hates how they got to this point.

”We may be separated by distance, yes, but I don’t want to leave you again, Anne. I’ve done it before, and look where we are now.” The wind picks up, a cold chill that is much too suitable for the situation. It’s stupidly ironic. “You’re stick with me, Anne. Not because I feel obligated to stick around or because I feel guilty, but because I want to. In any way you’ll have me.”

She looks at him with wide eyes. She keeps looking at different parts of his face, searching for answers to questions that Gilbert doesn’t know. But he remains still anyway, because sometimes even the smallest, unimportant things hold the most meaning. He wouldn’t dare take that away from Anne.

He knows realistically that tonight doesn’t fix things. It doesn’t change much, just a verbal promise not to leave again. Even that promise is breakable; life isn’t always as kind as to let things with such weight pass by without screwing them over. But Gilbert is determined to make it work. He’s determined to fix the things he broke in the first place. And what better place to start than by placing himself back into Anne’s narrative?

”You sure you want to stick around?” Anne asks. “I’m not just a little messy, I’m a lot messy. You could do so much better with someone less fucked up.”

Gilbert picks up on a subtle meaning behind Anne’s words. He would have perused it immediately six years ago. Now, he brushes it away without blinking. That conversation can wait.

”We’re both a lot fucked up, Anne. I’d rather be fucked up together than apart. You are stuck with me.”

Something about that seems to calm Anne down. She settles back into Gilbert’s side, nice and close, closer than any other night, and lights a cigarette. This time, Gilbert accepts a drag when one is offered to him.

Anne watches as the smoke leaves his mouth and smiles.

”I guess I’ll be sticking with you.”


End file.
